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Stolas Nebiros
'''Stolas Nebiros '''is a Pureblood demon who hails from the kingdom of Callahorn. He was born to a village of demons that had no desire for war, thus they moved to the mountains. Stolas heavily disagreed with their passive lifestyle which is what resulted in his exile and arrival into the current world. Decription Stolas is a man of decent height (6'1) and is very well-built. He has hair as black as a raven's feather, deep emerald eyes, and fairly tanned skin. He views non-demons as lowly filth, deserving of nothing. The only exception to this are werewolves, as he has the utmost respect for their combat prowess. Backstory Stolas was born in a far off kingdom, in a long ruined villiage who's name has long been forgotten. Like both of his parents, like the entire villiage in fact, Stolas was born with the dark, sinister wings of demons and their ken. However, despite this being true, his villiage was far in the mountains, easily hidden and difficult to come across. The demons that populated this villiage had no desire for war, something they were all shuned by their own kind for. Stolas and his family were one of the poorer families, always struggling to get by with food, and due to the extreme cold of the mountains, food was scarce and troublesome to grow. Stolas was the only child to two parents who were barely able to suppourt themselves, let alone a child, thus he had ended up with little to almost no food most nights. This meant that Stolas had to endure constant physical labour from a young age, just to raise barely enough money to eat one single meal. This led Stolas to learn about hunting so that he could capture food, but there were little more than the occasional rabbit or two around per year. Stolas always looked upon the humans with envy and hatred. They had all the food they could possibly want, and all the warm, soft beds they could ever need in any house or in any inn. However, when any demon came along seeking refuge, there was suddenly no space. As Stolas became older, he constantly questioned the laws of the village that forbade the theft or attacking of any humans and their property, claiming that they had plenty to share. However he was quickly scolded by the elders who claimed that if the humans were disturbed, the royal guard would surely interfere. While he never acted against these laws, he still hated the idea of bowing down to a race far lower than his own, adopting the idea that demons are far superior to them and believing that their current, miserable existance was due to everyone being too afraid to act like a proper demon. One evening, Stolas had gotten into a particularly heated argument with his father, which had resulted in him being tossed out of the house for the night. While walking down the road in search for a place of decent warmth and shelter from the snow, Stolas came across a merchant's wagon. Upon a closer investigation, he saw that there were two men arguing over a broken wheel. To his suprise, the wagon was filled with nearly uncountable amounts of fruits, vegetables, meats, cheeses, and what even looked to be alcohol. Stolace made up his mind almost instantly and descended upon the two men, quickly silencing one with an arrow to the throat, and the other with a swing of a blade to the man's head, slicing it clean off. He looked down upon the two men that he had just killed and felt an emotion that he'd never felt before. It was almost a type of longing... He enjoyed that kill, and he wanted more. He NEEDED more. Quickly snapping out of it, he began to think. Grabbing a large sack that was on the cart, he beagn filling it with as much food as possible. Everything was working out fine. He'd be able to take this back to the village and his family would finally have food for once. Once he got back to the village, however, he was not treated warmly or as a hero, and was in fact put in irons and taken before the council. After the citizens of the village took Stolas into captivity and brought him to the council, several of the older members gave their case to the council, and they instantly sentenced Stolas to death by hanging. While Stolas' was spending several nights in the villages jail so that the village could make preparations for his death, he spent both day and night thinking about what he had done. He quickly developed an unquenchable thirst for blood, and he found that he wanted to slaughter more people, not caring whether or not they were innocent. In the late afternoon of the third day, when the sun was beginning to set, the guards came to Stolas' jail cell to retrieve him. It was time for him to die. As the guards 'escorted' Stolas, bound by cuffs around both his ankles and his wrists, it seemed as if the entire village was following them, eager to watch the Demon meet his untimely death. As they reached the gallows, an incredibly large crowd had already amassed, cheering on the executioner and booing the soon-to-be-executed. Stolas, slowly walking up the wooden steps to the gallows and onto the small, collapsible trapdoor, the executioner, clothed in full-black clothes with a black hood, only his eyes able to be seen, slowly put the noose around Stolas' neck. Though it was not able to be seen, the executioner had his lips curled into the largest smirk he had ever formed, being hidden behind the mask. Stolas simply stayed silent, looking at the crowd that seemed to have numbered in the thousands in front of him, giving each and single face a glare of death. As the council read Stolas his last rights, and announced the crimes that he had committed, Stolas slowly looked up into the sky, as his last glimmer of hope faded from his eyes. While he was looking up, he saw several black crows flying over a pile of long-dead, rotten corpses, eager to feed on the decaying skin. An idea instantly shooting through his mind, Stolas knew what he had to do. As the head leader of the council yelled "Pull!" to the executioner, Stolas instantly jumped upwards off of the platform, and flapped his wings with more power than he had ever done before. With this sudden burst of adrenaline, Stolas managed to break the wooden supports of the gallows, the noose quickly sliding off of the base of it, allowing Stolas to fly upwards and outwards to freedom, over the furious crowd. Though the village's archers managed to take several shots at Stolas as he sped away from the village as quickly as possible, none came close to hitting him. The arrows were simply not enough to match his speed. As Stolas continued flying away from the village for what seemed like hours, even days, his lust for spilling blood grew more dire. As he looked down, hoping to find civilization, both for security and to look for his next victim, he finally spotted a small, oriental-looking town. He folded his wings inwards, increasing his velocity as he plummeted to the ground, landing safely on a bridge. His new, evil life had begun.